


Five (Related) Scenes That Got Deleted That Time Top Gear Went Caravanning

by tibididim



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Arson, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Vehicles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-10
Updated: 2006-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tibididim/pseuds/tibididim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, Top Gear went caravanning. (This really happened.) Hijinks ensued. (This too.) This is an old, old story that makes very little sense, I think, unless you have actually seen the episode where Top Gear goes caravanning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five (Related) Scenes That Got Deleted That Time Top Gear Went Caravanning

1\. Just Completely The Wrong Colour

It was a remarkable feat of engineering. To some eyes this deathly creature would even have appeared beautiful . Its pale sculpted contours shimmered in the twilight. Its polished windows glimmered with the reflected light of the setting sun.

They stood and gazed in sheer bemused awe.

Hammond broke the silence.

“It’s not _that_ awful.”

“It’s a fucking caravan,” said Clarkson. “It has no right to even exist on God’s green earth. We should raze it to the ground and dance on its ashes.”

“No, we should drive it to Dorset,” said May.

Clarkson stared at him. “Where’s the sense of justice in that? Have you no desire to take bloody revenge on these contraptions?

“It could be fun.”

“It could be hell.”

“Think of it as a growth experience.”

“Think of it as a demon box that could drive us all mad.”

“Well,” said Hammond, “it’s insane, bound to end in tears, and guaranteed to infuriate seventeen percent of the British public. It’s exactly the kind of result we always get for stuff we do on the show, and that Jeremy gets all the time just by existing. We _have_ to go.”

“Nnngh,” said Clarkson, and shook his fist.

“Ah, an ineffectual fist-shake,” said May. “Warms the cockles of my heart.”

“You know I’m bringing my assault rifle, don’t you?” said Clarkson.

“I’m bringing a flak jacket,” said May, “ and the SAS survival guide.”

Hammond stifled a laugh. Clarkson performed a Glare of Death. May put his hat on.

“You know it’s all going to end in tears,” said Hammond.

 

2\. Well, It _Is_ Amazing Upholstery

There were the usual preliminary scuffles- (“I’ll do it,” said May- “No, I’ll do it,” said Clarkson- “Fine, I’ll hold in in place and you tighten the straps up,” said May, placatingly) – and compulsory mishaps when attaching the towbar- (“You said back!” said May accusingly- “I meant _back_ , back,” said Hammond weakly) – but still, the caravan survived.

“There’s only one problem,” said Clarkson, after some time on the road. “There’s a double bed.”

There was silence.

“More spacious, at least,” said May. “I’m in.”

Clarkson turned his head very slowly to look at May, who continued to drive on oblivious.

“You know what, I think I can hear tumbleweeds,” said Hammond.

“Well, I’m not sharing,” said Clarkson, “at least, not if James wants to wake up in the morning and still have a head.”

“And you know, Hammond’s actually fairly gropable,” continued May, “He does have that sort of puppy-dog appeal. Like you’re not sure whether to shake his hand or tickle him under the armpits.”

Hammond kicked the back of May’s seat. The car swerved.

There was an ominous _clink_ from the caravan.

“Look what you did, James,” said Hammond. “You broke our pride and joy. Now you’re going to get hate mail. The Caravan Club’s Most Wanted.”

“Fuck off,” said May amicably.

 

3\. We’re Not _Brilliant_ At This, Are We?

“I do like the awning,” opined May, gazing at their home-from-home parked on the grass. He yawned.

“I like the awning,” retorted Hammond.

“I like your awning.”

“Well, I like your yawning.”

“You like my yawning?”

“No, your awning.”

“Oh.” May was silent for some time. “Did you mean that metaphorically?”

Hammond considered. “Possibly.”

Clarkson wandered over. “Has it occurred to you that this conversation you are having is completely inane?” he asked.

Hammond looked at May. May looked at Hammond. Hammond raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t worry, we’ll invite you to the wedding,” he said.

“And have you noticed how there is _nothing_ to do, literally, in the sense of _there are no things to do >_?” Clarkson began listing his many evident irritations on his fingers. “What are we actually supposed to do? My boredom threshold’s already strained; I’m not sure how much longer it’ll stand.”

“I know how we can pass the time,” said May, not looking up from his newspaper.

“Ahahahahaha,” said Hammond, midway through pouring his cup of almost-tea. “No.”

“What?” said May innocently, half-grinning.

“There is a certain something that you are thinking,” said Hammond, “which, quite frankly, I would rather you were not thinking. Especially considering our sleeping arrangements.”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” said Clarkson. “Stop making lewd suggestions to each other. It’s extremely juvenile and wearing on the nerves.”

 

4\. Don’t Say Things Like That, I’m On The Same Bed As You

The trains rattled away in the distance.

“How often d’you think they’ll go past?” asked Hammond, staring at the ceiling.

May yawned resignedly. “Often enough that you won’t even notice.”

The beds were hard.

The creatures of the night were abroad, and occasionally howled outside.

Hammond lay sleepless.

“You know,” came a voice from the other side of the mattress, “I think the creatures of the night are abroad.”

“I can’t sleep,” said Hammond.

“Have you tried counting sheep?”

“No.”

“Have you tried counting cars?”

“Yes, but I keep on seeing ones I really like and getting all excited about them and that wakes me up again.”

“Oh.” And then, “I know how we can pass the time, and it’ll send you to sleep really fast afterwards, but it’s not as fun when there’s only two people.”

“James- come on, please, I can’t even take innuendo during daylight.”

“What? I was talking about _Risk_.”

“Oh. But I- never mind.”

“Why? What did you think I meant?” There was nothing but bafflement in his voice.

“Do you really want to know?” he asked incredulously, rolling over.

“Yes, I want to know,” May replied defensively. It struck Hammond that they’d been moving closer over the course of their argument.

“Well, I’ll- ” he began, and was cut off.

Hmmm.

Some time later, Hammond slid off May and rolled onto his back. He lay staring at the ceiling. The ceiling in question seemed uncommonly close. Both their sleeping bags had become somewhat unzipped.

“Interesting,” said Hammond, without looking at May.

May didn’t answer.

“I didn’t know that was going to happen,” said Hammond. He was still half-tangled round May all along one side. It felt odd, but nice, like how he’d have thought being tangled around James May might feel.

May coughed sheepishly.

“Neither did I,” he said. “but I don’t think you’ll believe me.”

“Oh,” said Hammond. Then, “So it can happen again.”

“Basically, yes,” said May, but it was somehow cut off, shuttered. And then, in a rush-“I think- I think I’d quite like it to.” There was something in his voice that made him want nothing more than to tell James May some very very strange and unfamiliar things, like of course and anything and I want you, and if he hadn’t already been surprised half-a-dozen times already he’d have found this concept vaguely shocking.

As it was, he pressed his face into May’s chest (May hmmm’d a little in surprise), wrapped his arms around him, and said, “Well, thank god for that.”

 

5\. It’s OK, I’ve Got His Dressing-Gown!

“Jeremy, I think this one’s broken,” said Hammond, raising his voice above the roar of the flames. “Maybe we should get a new one.”

“I don’t know how that happened,” said Clarkson, staring in bemusement at the burning wreckage. “Honestly. One moment we had a magnificent Elddis- what was it?- _Shamal XL_ , and the next moment- gone! Kazam! Just like that!”

“With a little help from Jeremy ‘Arson Is A Legitimate Pastime’ Clarkson,” interjected May.

“Oh, I’m just glad he didn’t use _pouf!_ as his ‘burning up and exploding’ word,” said Hammond fervently.

“Wait,” said Clarkson, narrowing his eyes, “Something happened last night, what happened last night?”

“Nothing much,” said May, looking at Hammond.

“Nothing at all,” agreed Hammond, looking at May. “But it was very good, as nothings go.”

“Yes, I do like that kind of nothing,” said May. “I’d probably even go so far as to call it one of my favourites.”

“This is all terribly existential,” said Clarkson, “it’s charming, really it is, but I think I’m going to have to talk to this police officer and explain why we have a campaign of hate against the caravanners and their kith.” And he was off.

Hammond realised that May was standing about a foot closer to him than any ordinary-best-friend-type-person had a right to.

“He’ll work it out, won’t he?” he asked May, suddenly very aware of the warmth beside him.

“Of course he will,” said May, and he very deliberately put his hand on Hammond’s shoulder and left it there, casually rubbing his thumb across the back of his neck. “Well, eventually.”

The caravan blazed, and crumbled before their eyes.

It was foolish.

It was reckless.

It was _glorious_.


End file.
